


when the dust settles

by inlovewiththeirlove (fieldofdiabolicalbutlovelykillers)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Introspection, Louis Tomlinson-centric, M/M, Post-Break Up, X-Factor 2018, harry is a guest judge, seperate but happy in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 04:39:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16234379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieldofdiabolicalbutlovelykillers/pseuds/inlovewiththeirlove
Summary: he wants to meet upno no no no no noi think he misses youIt had been two years.Harry wrote an album.He established himself as an artist, respected even outside their core audience.Louis... didn’t move on.or, breaking up sucks, and losing your best friend at the same time is even worse





	when the dust settles

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom and I hope you enjoy. Natalia is an O/C bc louis deserves someone on his side.

Louis was in the middle of contemplating whether he had enough time to sneak in a cigarette before they started filming when he got the text.

It was from Natalia, his talent manager turned best friend and it was exactly as professional as her, _“sos babe i tried to stop it from happening but simon was... himself”_

Louis sighed. He definitely needed a cigarette break, one that was away from the crowd and preferably never-ending. 

It was all Simon’s fault. Simon had this way of getting Louis to agree to things that he never would consider or want. 

At first, it was mostly out of gratefulness and a little bit of fear that Louis or the one of the other boys would agree to whatever idea Simon proposed. 

It had sold, so perhaps Louis should have been appreciative but he wished he had fought harder on coordinating outfits and in the later years, the amount of work they did. 

Things would be different now, if he had. They might not have hit their peaks but perhaps they wouldn’t have hit their lows either. 

Even now, Louis didn’t know exactly how he let Simon rope him into these projects. 

The convincing, or well, the schmoozing had started a few months ago, when Simon had visited him in the studio. He had listened to the demos with pursed lips and a poker face giving nothing away. 

The minutes right after Louis would play Simon something, he’d get transported to primary school, back to a child that was looking to a teacher, hoping for a pat on the back. 

It was weak. 

The low hum that Simon made after Louis showed him the first demo took him exactly back to his first audition. The seconds after he had sung, each felt like a century. He had barely been able to breathe, awaiting the response that would potentially change his life. The response had been good, things had worked out. Nobody is lucky twice.

Simon talked around it. 

Despite calling himself a straight shooter, Simon didn’t tell him the songs were shit, or that they wouldn’t sell or that perhaps going solo may not work out. He was nice.

If Louis had learned anything in his years working with Simon was that a nice Simon was worse than a mean one.

A mean one respected you as an artist and wanted you to improve, a nice one pitied you.

A week later, he had taken Louis out to a club, they’d drank martinis and had caviar tacos and Louis had felt the whole night feeling strange about the future. The album was on hold, Harry was on the goddamn radio again and his sisters didn’t need him to be the big brother anymore. He din’t even want to think about being a disappointing father on top of that.

Louis didn’t know how Simon could tell what he was feeling but at the end of the night it was a simple question, “Wanna do X-factor?”

It was some combination of booze and the tracks lying on the cutting board that Louis said yes.

He read over Natalia’s text again and grimaced. He grabbed a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it. He wasn’t supposed to spoke inside his dressing room but this counted as special circumstances. 

Louis had been good, expert even, at avoiding Harry.

Both in their lives and in their professions. He had been asked about Harry’s music in an interview and the lie had come easy to him, “Yeah we’re friends. I think people will love the album.”

He couldn’t imagine listening to it. 

He couldn’t imagine talking to him.

He didn’t want to imagine seeing him.

He took another drag of the cigarette. Someone knocked on the door. That was his five minute signal. This time next week, he’d be here.

He shot a reply to Natalia, _“make sure he gets his own dressing room. far away from mine.”_

  
^^  


The worst part about all this was, Simon was right. He enjoyed being on the show. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled this much during the day and then went home inspired to create more.

The people on the show reminded him why he wanted to do this in the first place. 

He wanted to sing, he used to sing to his sisters when they were upset, getting to see their tears turn into laughter is what drove him to the auditions and even if he hadn’t gone through, he would still be making music, he firmly believed that. 

Watching smiles appear on the faces of the singers after hitting their high note made Louis happy. Louis knew the feeling of being on stage and impressing the crowd all too well. He’d belt out a note and for a moment after, a silence would rush over the audience, they’d be processing what happened, Louis would take a breath in that second and then accept the uproarious cheering he was showered with.

Music had purpose again.

The disappointed faces of his audience didn’t run through his head while he wrote anymore. Their expectations felt manageable, not as heavy as they had been at the start. 

Everything he had been making felt like a recreation.

It was like taking a blossomed flower and turning it back to a bud. They were buds before, never quite at bloom but growing. 

Louis didn’t remember how to do that anymore, maybe he never knew how to do this alone. 

He’d always connected to the other boys through the music. The feeling was a rare one, akin to a sunny day after weeks of London showers. 

It would be him and Liam mostly, the others boys preferring to write alone, or with other people.

Those sessions made everything worth it. The long hours, the lack of privacy, the haze of partying and intensity that surrounded them in those years, the sessions that were about music made it all work.

He sometimes thought if he and Harry had jammed more, they might have ended differently. 

His mum had always told him that he couldn’t fix everything, but Louis always admired the way she held everyone together. He should have been the glue, he should have made his mum proud. 

The only memory Louis has of Harry writing with him, is one he can’t place, it was a late night, the rain was loud and imposing outside.

Harry had returned from a party a little damp and laughing at every little thing. He had come over and took a spot next to Louis on the ground. He was close, closer than he was in public, closer they were supposed to be. His hand had lingered in the space above Louis but it didn’t sadden him.

He had looked at Louis with this look. The look felt like a promise.

A promise of a place without lingers, a promise of future where they could be.

Louis let out a laugh now, chiding his own naivety. 

Liam had started strumming as Harry sang. It was gibberish at first, Harry putting together random words in succession to see what stuck. He somehow made that sound beautiful too. 

Soon though, Louis started paying attention again and it was soft, Harry sang as they recorded it on their phones, Louis joined in with harmonies a verse in. It was perfect, like everything Harry touched. 

Louis wondered if he’d ever be able to listen to that song again. 

  
^^

  


Louis’ body was betraying him. His hands kept shaking, his stomach was weak and Louis almost wished he got ill so he could not have to do this today but he put that thought behind him. 

_Professional and Pleasant._

That’s the mantra that Louis had to exist by. It’s what Natalia had told him was the best course of action. She used the phrase often repeating it to herself to get through tough negotiations and dealing with the sexist asshats that dominated their industry. 

His stomach flipped again. 

_Professional. Pleasant._ He wanted to throw up.

Louis went to grab a cigarette but found his pockets empty. He swore under his breath as he tried to find a solution.

He opened the door to his dressing room and found a PA running with a box of La Croix that was probably for the crew.

Louis flagged the PA down, the man was dripping with sweat and he gave Louis a tight smile. 

“After doing this, you mind getting me a drink too?” Louis acted friendlier than he had to, giving the man a wide smile at the end of the question. 

He couldn’t afford to be low energy, he had learned the hard way that his low-energy was someone else’s rude.

“You want a La Croix too?” the man was disinterested, Louis could tell.

“Nah, mate, I want a real one. Listen, I’ll give you the money, just get me something strong,” Louis grabbed his wallet and got out the cash.

“Uh...” the PA froze. The man looked scared out of his wits.

Louis sighed. The team around here still treated him like he was an eighteen year kid, chasing after every illicit thrill he could find.

A moment later the PA said, “I don’t drink so... uh... if you told me what you wanted.” 

Louis sighed. The universe had a plan to ruin his day didn’t it.

“Let’s go with a bottle of gin.” 

Louis came back to the dressing room and sunk into the couch, letting music from his headphones  
flood over him.

He tried not to let his mind wander not to the changes he still had to make to his music, not to the fact that it had been almost two weeks since he’d last talked to Liam, not to dinner tonight and especially not to the other side of the building where in a near identical dressing room, he’d be there. Existing. Happy. Alone.

  


^^  


An hour and a half a bottle of gin later, Louis finally felt okay. He knew his body well enough to drink enough to control his spiral but not enough to be considered too drunk for judging. He could very easily pass as sober and happy. 

Good ol’ friendly Louis. He popped in a mint to cover up the smell.

He closed his eyes and tried to drown out his thoughts. 

His thoughts put up a difficult fight however, everything from his songs to dinner made his head hurt.

He gave up the rest and checked his phone instead. Reminders filled the notifications of his phone.

_Call Liam._

_Don’t freak out._

_Don’t get drunk!!!!!_

He chuckled at the last one, at least he wasn’t wasted. He was doing fine. 

He shut his eyes again, one last attempt at a nap before his call time. 

__

Louis looked over to the whining door and his memories came alive.

"Hey, I... uh... wanted to come over and say-"

Louis blinked slow, twice, not quite ready to trust his eyes. Maybe the alcohol had gotten to him, maybe this was a dream.

But no, Harry continued speaking and Louis tried to stare at the brick wall behind him. 

Tried. 

Harry's eyes were hard to compete against.

-catch up." Harry looked over at Louis raising his eyebrows.

Louis stood up, Harry moved forward with his arms wide, for what looked to be a hug and Louis stumbled backwards. 

Harry looked sheepish, and put his arms back to his side. 

They were both quiet for a moment, taking each other in. 

Louis could smell the faint whiff of Harry's cologne mixed with his hairspray, he wanted to envelop himself in that but he stabilized himself on the armrest of the couch instead. 

Louis felt Harry’s gaze following him. 

He was always like that watching not like a hawk, but a resting lion, preferring to know everything.

It had always been that way, where Louis was impulsive, saying the first thing that came to his mind and Harry was the opposite.

He’d observe, think and then act. Even during the X-factor days, he’d sit in a corner observing the competition, taking his time to process before deciding, how they’d tackle the week.

It felt intrusive.

Louis finally broke the silence,"What do you want?"

Harry smiled wide.

Louis couldn't think of a more assholeish move.

"I wanted to catch up," his eyes were practically twinkling as if he had walked straight out of a disney movie.

"I'm busy," Louis repeated the mantra in his head.

"Doing what?"

"Not being here," Louis started to walk past Harry to the door to leave but after a few steps, he felt an hand on his arm. 

His heart stopped for a second.

It felt wrong.

Louis shook it off.

"One conversation, we can at least manage that can't we? Nothing personal, just show stuff."

Louis rolled his eyes.

The snark came out without intention, "Didn't know you cared so much about X factor?"

“No one cares as much as you do though, that's why you're drunk right now ain’t it?” Harry shot back.

Louis had to smile, it’d been too long since he heard that biting tone, one that Louis knew he had instilled in Harry. 

He was too polite otherwise, it was a bore.

Louis shrugged.

“I thought you were doing better,” he spoke slow, as if he was talking to a nervous fan, not wanting to spook them.

Louis didn’t respond. Harry didn’t push.

Harry nodded leading Louis to the couch. He looked more tense now, holding his hand together in front of him,

"The producers want is to do a duet together,” he said, slow and calculating.

Louis almost laughed at the intensity of Harry’s voice. He didn't know what he had expected but  
this was downright trivial, compared to the seriousness of Harry’s tone. 

Louis felt a sliver of guilt, for being a dick about it. Though, not enough to apologize 

"Sure, it'll make the people happy won't it, you can pick the song, just tell Natalia before the show  
okay, can't have me forgetting the lyrics. Doing it without rehearsal might be better, more natural?” 

Louis was aware of his ramble and he didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, his desire to be alone or his fear of what would happen if he wasn’t.

Harry looked a little bit like a kicked puppy.

He seemed resigned to the situation. 

He finally said, “You want to hang out, after the show?”

“Sure,” Louis states, getting up and and nudging Harry to the door.

Harry left and Louis’ phone buzzed.

Natalia had sent a text, it read, _“we still going out tonight?”_

_“ofc. i’ll see u right after the show, its gonna be litt”_

^^

Louis’ appreciation for EDM grew by the second. He knew why it annoyed people, the stereotype of the DJ pressing a button at a live concert was one he too had joked about. 

Tonight however, Louis could kiss the DJ, the rhythmic beats permeating the crowd, every beat drop acted as an adrenaline rush to the crowd. 

They were at the fingertips of the DJ and Louis was right along with them. He saw Natalia across the dance floor, at the bar, doing shots with a guy who’d been chatting her up.

That was her escape, this was his.

The club was popular, but not snobbish and each person looking for salvation in the music.

The music let them breathe, saved the drowning souls who’d otherwise end up alone. 

Louis danced letting the music take him over.

He felt eyes on him, he met them, they were electric blue, one’s Louis could get lost in. He had dark hair that tempted him to run his hands through, he was the type of beautiful you could lose yourself in. 

The guy bit the inside of his lip and looked him up and down. 

It was a look Louis had often seen, it said everything. Louis took him in. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt that left little to the imagination.

The guy moved closer, leaned over and whispered, “Hi.”

His voice sounded smooth, as if it was music itself.

Louis took in a quick breath.

He usually wouldn’t do this, not in public, not with a guy and certainly with a stranger but he still had a long day and the meeting with Harry had him missing the gentle bliss of waking up next to a warm body in bed.

Louis smiled and let the guy grab his hand and move in closer. The guy leaned over and his lips brushed against Louis’ cheek.

The guy raised his brow and his eyes shifted to the door. Louis got the message loud and clear and he grabbed his hand to lead him out to the street from a side entrance.

Walking out of the club, away from the neon lights the guy said his name, “Jamie.”

“Hi Jamie,” Louis whispered, staring at the beautiful man in front of him. he must have been staring for too long at his lips because the next thing he knew he felt soft lips on his own. He was caught off-guard but it felt good. To touch, to be touched was a treasure. Louis could smell the fruity smell of his shampoo as he ran his fingers through his hair. He pulled back a second later and smiled. His eyes moved down for a second and Louis’ jaw dropped.

Four words. It was four words that could destroy him. He needed to find Natalia. Fuck. 

This boy was looking at him with wide eyes, as if he’d given him the world, and maybe he thought Louis had.

“Fuck,” Louis exclaimed at the world.

Jamie caught on quick.

“I swear I won’t say anything, I really admire your music-”

Louis couldn’t meet his eyes. His eyes did not leave the white, too tight T-shirt the boy was wearing.

‘Treat people with kindness’ it mocked. This was the fucking kindness Harry fucking Styles had brought to his life.

Louis grabbed the boy by the neck of his shirt and let his panic take over, “You ever so much as breathe about this-”.

“I won’t, I swear, Louis I really like you.”

Fuck. What was Louis doing? He should’ve been smarter. 

This was weak. 

Simon could never find out.

The boy at least looked scared out of his wits though the allure of money could make anyone talk.

“How old are you?” Louis asked, letting go of the boy’s shirt.

His eyes dropped and he was biting his lip, as if he was holding back tears.

“Twenty,” he could barely say it.

Louis rubbed his temple. This was a kid. What the fuck was he doing?

“Wait here,” Louis told the kid, going back into the club. 

He knew the kid could take off, but Louis trusted that he wouldn’t. 

He found Natalia where he had left her, still at the bar, laughing along with a guy that looked like a model. 

Louis signalled to her that he wanted to talk and a few minutes later, the stood outside the washrooms, the only place, where they could possibly hear each other in a conversation.

Louis explained the situation to her and watched her face go from curiosity to shock to terror and then annoyance and finally resignation. She pursed her lips and Louis could picture the pencil behind her ear, one that would show up whenever she was in planning mode. 

She paced around a little and then said, “Right, the kid is getting VIP tickets, merch or whatever the fuck kids like these days.”

“He won’t say anything,” Louis said.

She gave him a look that told him to shut up.

“You go hang out at the bar, flirt with a girl, leave with her through the front, There’s always paps around this place so be spotted together, if not just fucking put up a photo with her on Instagram. Create a narrative, okay, I’m gonna go take care of the kid,” Natalia was already on her phone, figuring out the bribe, or the “gifts” as she’d say.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said.

She shrugged and simply said, “Take care of yourself tonight.”

^^

Louis woke up to his phone buzzing. He wanted to throw it against the wall. He was hungover, the past day had caught up to him and his body hurt all over.

He checked his phone and saw a string of messages from Natalia.

_“the kid signed an NDA, thankfully no one saw. i’m so fucking hungover. i’m taking the morning off.”_

Louis laughed, she deserved it.

He thought that’d be all she’d say but another message followed.

_“i got a message from Ronnie, harry’s manager? apparently you agreed to meet harry to discuss a collab, lmk if you want me to set it up, i’ll do it after my nap.”_

Louis knew he’d technically agreed to hang out but he hoped his absence yesterday had sent a clear message. 

Yesterday may have been petty, but the sentiment was real.

 _“no no no no no no no, ugh why can’t he leave me alone_ ,” Louis texted back.

He receives back a heart emoji, followed by a simple, _“i think he misses you”_.

Louis groaned. He was too hungover for this. In a few hours, he’d be too sober for this, and after a few hours after, too drunk.

He crawled out of bed, racking his brain to remember if he had anything that might be constituted a breakfast food in his fridge. 

He at least knows he has some fruits he could put in a smoothie. 

His fridge is sparse, nothing pops out, that he’d like to eat.

He checks the freezer and finds a box of frozen waffles and sighed. At least the sugar would improve his mood. 

He pops two in the toaster and soon a sweet smell fills his kitchen. 

It reminds him of something it shouldn’t. A different apartment, a different year, the same delicious smell in his kitchen as Louis tried to mix pancake batter while Harry kept tickling him.

They giggled into each other until Louis retaliated by grabbing some all- purpose flour and applying it to Harry’s face. 

He could still remember his curls tinted white, while Louis laughed.

Harry grabbed the wooden spoon and out of Louis’ hand and splashed some batter on Louis. 

They had ended up a laughing mess.

Louis could only hear the remnants of their joined laughter. Noise that he should’ve treasured. 

Looking around now, he realized how sparse and hollow his kitchen was. He hadn’t even put up a fridge magnet. 

The waffle was too hard, but Louis appreciated the maple syrup.

They had fed each other pancakes, after remaking the batter. 

It was cheesy but Louis had loved Harry liked that. Smiling, joking and trying to convince Louis that his favourite pancake topping was marmite.

He didn’t know that in the future he’d treasure the presence of Harry’s dimples in his life. That even when they were together, Harry would scowl more, have worry lines on his forehead and never let go enough, for his dimples to make a presence.

Louis added strawberries to the second waffle. 

It was a blissful morning. 

Even as Louis thought about it, he knew that was an exaggeration. 

Lies and exaggeration, both stitched by the same thread.

The morning was bliss, bliss until Harry suddenly pulled away from Louis’ kiss. 

“I think I saw a camera flash,” Harry’s voice was high, from panic.

“Fuck them,” Louis response was automatic, rolling his eyes at the press trying to get some fodder for their “paper”.

He saw Harry’s brow furrow. 

“I think i’m gonna go,” he admitted.

The words punched him in the gut.

“I thought we were spending the day together?” It was childish the way he’d asked, his voice almost breaking as he choked out the question. 

It had been a too long since they hadn’t gotten a day together, one in their own bed, after the craziness of tour, alone, with nothing to do but to be with each other.

Harry had shifted nervously, and promised to call him before leaving.

Louis had smashed the empty plate onto the ground and then cut himself picking up the pieces.

Louis traced over his finger now, where there was a very faint scar, reminding him of why everything went to shit. 

It was upsetting, in a way, that Louis wanted to smile recalling the story, that little details came to him despite the distance.

Harry used to hum while he cooked, he’d call him anything under the sun, from sweetheart to honey to sugar, he’d whisper “thank you” after Louis would kiss him and Louis would know that this was meant to be.

The tears started before Louis could stop them. He wanted to smash a plate. 

  
^^  


The coffee shop was very... Harry. The decor was minimal, the counters marble and the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans permeated the air.

A soft, indie song was playing in the background. Harry would’ve teased him for calling it indie, go on a tangent about how that word means basically nothing because any song not strictly pop was labeled as indie. Louis would’ve laughed then, he was sure. 

Louis perused the menu, there were some photos of the drinks, all with latte art and a few with gold flakes that based on the price Louis knew must be real gold. It wasn’t a surprise that Harry chose this place, he always did appreciate decadence. I

In other words, this place was pretentious. 

The people around him were all dressed to the tens. 

Louis shuffled in his seat, he had sat in the corner so he wouldn’t be spotted, but the walls were mostly glass making anonymity difficult. 

He felt out of place in his Adidas tracksuit. Despite his fame and affluence there was something about this place that made him uncomfortable.

Louis could feel eyes on him, but these weren’t the wondering eyes of people who’d nudge to their friends trying to confirm whether they had spotted a celebrity in the wild or just stared at a regular guy for ten minutes.

An older woman sitting at a table near him huffed. Louis knew it was directed at him, because he looked like he belonged in a club, not in a place that had the pace of an old age home.

Louis checked the time again. 

Harry was late.

Maybe the universe was testing Louis, how long would he wait for him before he left? How much did he care? 

He decided to scroll through Instagram while waiting. His hands shook while he scrolled, his body giving away the knots that were forming in his stomach.

The cafe door opened and Louis looked up. He took in a sharp breath. 

He noticed the white shirt before anything else, it was tight, a grey coat hanging off his body. He looked comfortable, a little bit more relaxed than when they saw each other on set.

They caught eyes and Harry made his way to the table.

“Sorry, did I make you wait? You should have ordered,” Harry rushed out, mumbling through some of the sentence. 

“I didn’t know what you wanted.” Louis responded. It was colder than he anticipated, he smiled to make up for it. 

“Uh.. I can go order, and let me cover it, for being late. They have a really good green tea here. And for you?”

Louis kept himself composed. 

Of course he wanted to pay, that’s what the did with girls too, flash his money to make the other person feel special. 

Or smaller. 

He wanted to remind Harry that he had money too, he could buy the bistro if they were comparing wallets.

That was unfair, his sister often told him about love languages and how buying things might be hers, Louis knew it was because she wanted some more pocket money to spend on her friends but it must have stuck, because he didn’t snap at Harry. 

“Espresso is good,” Louis said, it felt odd, conversing about something so normal. They weren’t talking about love, the band or anything bigger than a cup of coffee.

Harry raised his brow, “Um.. you don’t want milk or sugar?”

“I take it black now,” Louis responded.

It felt like a confession.

Louis browsed as Harry ordered, the outside world taken over by the golden glow of a sunset. He was reminded of a few years ago, on a tour bus.

He wouldn’t be able to name the tour they were on, the city, or even the country they were going through but he remembered Harry, fallen asleep leaning on the window, his curls almost covering his face. He was skinnier then, smaller too and the golden light on Harry made Louis’s heart skip a beat.

Harry carried Louis’ drink a minute later, he was followed by a barista carrying Harry’s tea. It smelled like a freshly mowed lawn. 

The barista also carried a plate that had a slice of chocolate cake on it.

“Thought you’d like it,” Harry said, “unless you don’t like chocolate anymore.”

Louis doesn’t know what he means by that, whether its a jab or a regular statement. He ignores it.

“So, Ronnie mentioned something about you working on a new album, how’s that going?”

Louis had a strategy, keep it polite, keep it professional, don’t notice the was Harry’s curls drop in front of his face and definitely resist the urge to tuck it behind his ear.

Harry fixed his curls as he talked, “It’s going really well. Yours? Will I be hearing it soon?”

Louis tightens his grip on the small cup he’s holding, “Uhh... eventually.”

“I liked the singles by the way, I’m sure your album will be brilliant. And from someone who’s done it solo, don’t chase perfection, okay? There were some songs I really doubted but they ended up being people’s favourite,” Harry smiled as he spoke.

Smiled as if he was unaware of the weight of every word he said piercing Louis’ heart. 

It had been two years. 

Harry wrote an album.

He established himself as an artist, respected even outside their core audience.

Louis... didn’t move on.

Their breakup hadn’t been like the snap of a twig, it was more akin to a fallen leaf decaying away.

Harry had rested in the soil and sprouted again, Louis had floated away.

“I didn’t hear your album.”

The words should have left a residue of awkwardness at the table but Harry laughed. 

“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, I swear. Anyway on the new album, you should do a duet with me.”

Louis gasped, “What? 

“You have to admit it, there was a spark,” Harry spoke with surety and conviction. 

“You’re imagining things,” Louis kept a straight face, hoping his face wasn’t betraying him. 

He made eye contact with Harry to sell the lie, but it didn’t work.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? I know you,” Harry raises his voice, disbelieving,“Oh my god I saw that bloody look on your face.”

Louis bit the inside of lip, “What look?”

“The one where you make the other person feel like they’re lucky to be near you, like they’re part of some secret club. I know that look. And I know you-”

“-You knew me. Harry, look you wanted a meeting, I gave you that, I even came all the way too this posh ass coffee place so just tell me what on earth do you want from me?

Harry still felt foreign on his tongue, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said his name out loud, let alone to his face. 

They were quiet for a moment. Louis noticed the song playing in the background, it was classical, something he’d never hear. 

“Call me Haz,” it was casual the way Harry say to a reporter who he was trying to make a good impression on. Louis didn’t know whether that ever worked but Harry’s eyes were almost pleading.

“Haz, I don’t think I have anything left to give you.” the words were almost easy to say, perhaps because it had been years, years spent practicing, endless days spent repeating the same conversation in his head. 

In all the scenarios he imagined this reunion, he’d been smiling. He’d be smiling ,drawn in by the charm dripping of off Harry’s lips or the familiarity of his drawl as he spoke. Louis would chide himself after for letting a drink or two relive memories that he’d rather not remember. 

He was always smiling, and Harry was too and suddenly he was back to being the naive, eighteen year old who’d think only of the now and kiss Haz.

“Lou, please tell me I’m not delusional. That we have,” he seemed to be editing himself as he spoke, “we had something real, we could do that again.”

Louis remained silent.

Harry continued, “We can be friends, if you’d rather I promise I’ll respect your boundaries. All i want is you in my life, however much you want.”

The silence that followed was deafening. 

It was after that long silence that Louis stated, “We weren’t good for each other.”

“You only remember the bad parts,” Harry said raising his brow. Harry was always the optimist and he seemed to be reminding Louis of that.

“You only remember the good bits, do you really think we can just be friends?” There was an edge to his voice, a bitterness that came out during the question.

Louis used to hate that, but it was honest. 

He wasn’t pretending that they had a future.

“Yeah, I want to make music with you, go on tour again, isn’t that something you want?” Harry asked. 

“And you’ll be okay with just that?” Louis doubted everything coming out of Harry’s mouth. 

He knew him too well, to not know when Harry regret this later.

He nodded, “I would respect what you wanted.”

Louis wanted to scoff.

“Harry who are you kidding? The rumours would be everywhere, rumours you hated. And look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t want us to be back together every time we were in the same fucking room,” Louis raised his voice now, getting passionate 

“Look X-factor is great for you, but you’re better than that, you’re so fucking good. Why don’t you embrace that?”

“This is not about my career.”

“What’s it about then?”

“Let’s say I say yes, I open for you, or we make an album together, we go on tour together and you see me with someone else, then what?”

“I know you hook up with women.”

“Let’s say its a guy,”

“I’d handle it.”

“Would you? Or would you be hurt over not being with me? Because I’d be hurt if the tables were turned.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You still love me, it’d kill you to see me with someone else, I know you’re carrying a torch for me because I’m carrying one for you too.”

“We could be together then, do it in secret but not have that pressure that we did. Be free for once, can’t we be happy?” It was a plea, the way Harry said. Teary eyes and voice breaking, his heart was breaking. 

“You can’t make blue and red out of purple, love. We can’t go back.”

They sat there for a long time, in silence. 

Louis didn’t know whether he had any tears left in him, though he felt the urge to bawl. Harry looked about the same. 

The barista came over and asked if they wanted something else.

Louis ordered another piece of cake, he hoped it was delicious enough to bury some of their sadness.

It was awkward. It was awkward and weird and Louis felt sweat go down on the back of his neck.

The class clown in him wanted to crack a joke, tease Harry about the dwindling quality of his tattoos, to say something.

He swallowed.

“How’s your mum doing?” he asked.

“You’re changing the topic, just like that?”

“I still care about you,” Louis smiled, “I’ve never stopped.”

Harry turns his head, looking away for a second , “You fuckin- do you hear yourself? What the hell have you become? You were always the one fighting, fighting for the rest of us to have control, to fucking do what we’re good at, create shit we were proud of and now what? You’re not proud of me anymore?” 

Louis clutched the fork tighter.

Through gritted teeth he said, “The world out there are vultures, ready to attack. Do I think about being with you? Every goddamn day, but you know we can’t do this, we can’t be some joke that everyone points at, I want you to be more, go be a fucking legend.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, you’re a coward, every single time I’ve performed I’ve been up there posing with the flag, and in those moments all I’m thinking about is how much I want you there next to me, don’t you dare tell me we can’t have it all, our happiness is not conditional,” Harry declared. 

He was angry, passionate and looked like he wanted to strangle Louis.

Louis paused, running his hands through his hair, looking up to see expectant eyes, “You’re going to do great things, Haz. With or without me,” he looked down to the floor, which felt too clean for a coffee shop. 

“With, it’s not a question, it’ll always be with you. I’m ready to face whoever the fuck comes between us, I’ll quit being in the public eye, work in a bakery in the middle of nowhere, if it meant that we were still together,” he rambled, clearly frustrated.

Louis hated being frustrating, but Harry was trying to save him, withhout wearing his own oxygen mask.

“There you go again, giving up parts of yourself for me, I want you to have the life you dreamed of as a kid, I want you to travel the world, make music, act, be wild, be the success story you were meant to be. You don’t need me holding you back, love.” Louis smiled, it was unconvincing but necessary.

Harry pulled back, “Are you happy, Louis?”

Louis blinked in surprise.

“You tell me you’re happy and I’ll back off. I’ll be professional, won’t even be an acquaintance, I’ll be the perfect ex if you tell me that you’re happy.”

“I’m hap-” Louis started, then paused. 

Was he happy?

He was doing alright. 

He was struggling, sure but who doesn’t sometimes?

He wasn’t depressed, he had seen friends go though that he didn’t lock himself in his room everyday. He was on the telly for goodness sake, he was doing fine.

Was he happy?

He liked his music, he liked his sisters and he was happy that he had friends in his life.

Was he happy?

Harry raised a brow, challenging Louis.

“Why the fuck does it matter?” Louis demanded.

“It matters because I care, and you should too.”

“Haz, you’re making this harder than it has to be.”

“Look, you don’t want me caring about you, fine, but at least care about yourself, you were happy back then and now,” Harry paused and his silence gave everything away.

Louis scoffed. And then he coughed, though it sounded suspiciously like tears.

“Fucking hell, you’re actually concerned aren’t you,” Louis said in a disbelieving tone.

Harry reached out, left his hand on the table and ran his thumb up and down his index finger. It was a gesture Louis knew too well, their way of comfort in public, were even without touch the other could feel held.

Louis smiled at its familiarity.

He had to face the music.

“I don’t think I’ve been happy since,” Louis admitted, “I don’t know if you’ll make me happy, it was shit before, apart from us, but right now I don’t know if I can handle that,” his breathing gets heavier, “it was so much work.” 

Louis could tell he was on the brink of tears. He felt a hand on his knee, underneath the table. They didn’t do that before; at least not when they were alone and in public. He must have longed for it once, now it just hurt.

“Louis, do you want to be happy?” Harry asked.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Louis rolled his eyes at the question. 

“Then that’s enough.”

“We’re not getting back together, I can’t promise that we ever will get back together, you should probably move on,” Louis stated.

“That’s okay, you should focus on getting better, sorting out your head, see a therapist maybe, and I want to be a friend, to help you through that.”

It’s painful to hear.

It feels like pity.

He looks at Harry, whose eyes are wide and teary and he knows its concern, not pity.

“Thank you, Haz, for everything,” Louis said in a soft voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback/ kudos are always appreciated! you can also reblog this on Tumblr if you want to share it:[x](http://cutie-with-booty.tumblr.com/post/178857667824/when-the-dust-settles)


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